


New Day, Same Love

by IvyLane



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Just a fluffy thing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 03:57:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14370399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyLane/pseuds/IvyLane
Summary: Thanks for reading, pals. Come visit me on Tumblr, @ivy625fanfic. Reblog this fic there at:http://ivy625fanfic.tumblr.com/post/173110389936/new-day-same-love





	New Day, Same Love

Dan sits quietly on the balcony, head tilted slightly upward to take in the view of the dark sky. The London evening had long ago bled into that certain time of night where stillness reigned, and the only sounds that can be heard are the susurration of the wind and the distant thrumming of tires running over asphalt. It’s a bit chilly out (his breath is just visible as he huffs air from between his lips), but he is comfortable enough in his thick grey hooded jumper as he slouches low on the beach lounger ( _It’s a great idea_ , Phil had said cheerfully as he dragged the long, navy-striped chair to the till at TK Maxx. _It’ll be like a vacation at home_.), his black jean clad legs and spotted-socked feet stretched out in front of him. Dan curls and flexes his toes, attempting to warm them a bit. Not too far away is another one of Phil’s ideas, one that he had sat out two days prior. 

“It’s for the birds,” Phil had said at the time, glancing behind to smile softly at Dan, before turning and hunching over to set the bubble gum-pink plastic table in the middle of the balcony. (Phil had also purchased that at TK Maxx, scooping it out of the sales bin near the till with his free hand, beach lounger clutched in the other. Dan had raised his right eyebrow at Phil but decided not to comment.) After settling the table, Phil had placed the bird feeder—really just a large ceramic black plate overflowing with bird seed— just so in the center of the child-size table. Dan had stood in the doorway watching Phil, with his temple against the doorjamb, fingertips resting against the chrome handle of the sliding glass door.

“You and those damned pigeons,” Dan had replied, his eyes soft.

Phil tapped one finger against the rim of the plate of bird seed and then pressed his hands into his lower back to stretch as he regained his full height. Then, he walked to Dan, and Dan’s eyes followed Phil without thought (When had the desire to look at Phil turn into a need, like breathing?), his eyes tracking over the familiar planes and sharp curves of his face. When Phil stepped into his place in front of Dan, he leaned into him, reached out a hand, cupped the hinge of Dan’s jaw in his soft palm, and pressed his lips so gently against Dan’s own. 

“Me and those damned pigeons,” Phil had said back, whispering the words against Dan’s mouth. Phil’s warm, damp breath had been a whorl of coffee and mellow sweetness from the chocolate brioche bun they’d split for breakfast. Phil had smiled; Dan had shivered in response.

The wind is nipping now, and Dan tucks his hands into the sleeves of his jumper and tucks them under his thighs. His head is still tilted toward the sky, which had been gliding past its night ink color for some time now and into an ombre of newness, of navy, and of royal purple, of shards of fuchsia, and a horizontal splitting of brilliant orange in the distance. A bird chirps somewhere close by, and Dan releases a breath, slowly.

The sliding glass door opens. Dan turns his head, and Phil is there, as he always is. His hair is wild from sleep, and his glasses sit slightly askew on his nose. He has a mug in each hand, and Dan sees wisps of steam rising, winding upward, upward in the dim light. Phil steps onto the balcony, his feet bare, and he walks the short distance to Dan. When he reaches his place at Dan’s side, he bends over to set the mugs on the ground (Dan breathes in deep, and the hot fragrant smell of coffee clouds his senses momentarily), and then Phil continues to fold his body gently downward until he’s nestled onto Dan’s lap. Phil rests his head on Dan’s shoulder, his warm nose rubbing at Dan’s collarbone. Dan places his arms around Phil, fingers splayed broad, touching Phil’s shoulder here with one hand, his hip there with the other. 

“Two days in a row now? I’m impressed,” Phil's voice is deep, cobwebs of sleep still clinging to it. Dan hugs Phil tight, briefly, to his chest and places his cheek on his soft hair.

“It’s nice,” he says to Phil. Dan’s voice is rough too, unused for so many hours as he sat alone watching the night peel away. Then, with a teasing lilt, Dan continues, “Peaceful...the way a vacation at home should be.” 

Dan quiets and tilts his head a bit, presses his lips to the crown of Phil’s head, and then rests his cheek, once again, on Phil’s soft hair. 

Phil hums a wordless noise of agreement, and murmurs, “I have the best ideas.”

The sky is a bright thing now, a stunning blue, mostly, with swaths of violet coiling and fading away, the sun sparkling fiercely and burning away the remaining tendrils of dawn. A pigeon glides into Dan’s line of sight and lands on the pink plastic table. Dan whispers to Phil, uncurling his hand from Phil’s hip to point. 

“The first one of the day,” he says. Phil looks at the bird, cants his head backward to focus on Dan, and smiles.

“You and those damn pigeons,” Phil responds, his eyes soft behind his black frames. Dan studies Phil’s face, eyes mapping (like breathing, as always) the lines and valleys and ridges that are the most familiar things to him, this moment, too, like so many others, so familiar. Then, lifting one hand to gentle his fingers lightly against Phil’s unshaven jaw, Dan leans in slowly, and brushes his lips against Phil’s once, and then once more. They part, but not by much (never by much), and the narrow space between them thrills in expectation of being set aside again.

“Me and those damn pigeons.” Dan's mouth is so close to Phil’s own, his breath warm in the cool morning air. Phil closes his eyes and shivers; Dan smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, pals. Come visit me on Tumblr, @ivy625fanfic. Reblog this fic there at:  
> http://ivy625fanfic.tumblr.com/post/173110389936/new-day-same-love


End file.
